


With No Power Comes No Responsibility

by FredAndGinger



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe -Superheroes, Ferre's professors are supervillains, I'm doing this on mobile so we'll see how this goes, M/M, and I told monkia that I'd gift her a fic, and he has a big gay crush on Courfeyrac, and he is an intern, bromance with Joly, i saw a superhero prompt, so a two in one!, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 11:17:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7313077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FredAndGinger/pseuds/FredAndGinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre is having a terrible summer. He has to intern for some professors, who he's pretty sure are supervillains, if he wants to graduate next year, Enjolras and Courfeyrac have been avoiding him, and two superheroes- Avenger and The Center- have been taking over the news and barging into his work.</p>
<p>
  <i>"I know there's some good in you." </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Combeferre snorted "I'm pretty sure all that's on me right now is ramen, Redbull, and spite." </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	With No Power Comes No Responsibility

**Author's Note:**

  * For [infinite_mirrors](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinite_mirrors/gifts).



> Welp here it is.

Combeferre liked to consider himself a reasonable person, but sometimes there were things that just had to be done, damn the consequences. Sometimes you had to put your ideals and morals aside and just do what you needed to survive. Sometimes you needed to put the greater good on hold so you could come back to it, better than you had been before.

Sometimes, you just had to work with the supervillains.

Now, it’s not like that had been Combeferre’s goal. Of course he didn’t want to be a bad guy, why would he want to be a bad guy? No, there were reasons he’d taken this position. The main reason being that three of his professors were working there and he needed letters of recommendation, the college credits they were offering with this internship, and the money. None of the other jobs he’d considered offered all of those. And this was a tough economy, he needed job experience if he was ever going to be given a job in the “real world” outside of college. 

Besides, when he signed up he did _not_ think that it was going to be a big deal. Sure, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that these guys were the villains plaguing the city, but no one else had found out yet! Maybe it would stay that way all summer. It was fine, he’d be fine. No one would ever even have to know he was affiliated with these guys. He was just a poor, unknowing intern, after all. He was fine. 

Actually, he was a little too fine. Enjolras and Courfeyrac were bored this summer and, despite the fact that they had jobs of their own, they kept pestering Combeferre to give them a tour of the lab. 

“The lab is not an amusement park.” Combeferre would say in the face of Courfeyrac’s begging, though it pained him to do so. He never could say no to his best friend. 

“There’s no way I can get you in.” He’d tell Enjolras, who wanted to be sure that the place Combeferre was working was safe and up to code (though Combeferre knew his real reasons were the same as Courfeyrac’s: boredom).

“Fine.” He said eventually, when both of them had teamed up and trapped him in his and Enjolras’s apartment in the middle of a thunderstorm. There had been no escape. “Fine, just don’t cause any trouble and do _not_ touch any of the machines, _please_.

… 

He was actually glad they convinced him, he thought as he led them through the most boring parts of his work place. Maybe they’d make the day more interesting. It’s not like his professors ever let him into the rooms with the death rays or whatever it was they were making. He mostly filed paperwork and checked math. It was terrible. He was wasting his summer in this stuffy room with other life-less nerds. But now he had his friends, at least for the day, and he intended to make the most of it. 

“Hey,” Courfeyrac said, stopping in front of one of the many doors marked “Employees Only”. “What’s in here?” 

Courfeyrac shrugged. He was an employee, but he was restricted to the low security rooms. He was sure his badge would get him in there, but he’d never really had the time or the drive to figure out what was behind most of the doors. 

“A broom closet, probably.” He said.

“A broom closet with a keycard lock?” Enjolras asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. Combeferre sighed. Couldn’t they let him finish the tour so he could show them the cool stuff? 

“I don’t know, alright? I’m not allowed back there.” 

“Man, this place is boring.” Courfeyrac complained in a teasing tone, “I thought you’d be doing _real science_.”

“I am doing real science!” Combeferre argued, jokingly offended. He was about to say something, something about the weird promotion his bosses wanted to offer him that was going to allow him to work on some of the machines, when an alarm went off. 

“What’s that?” Enjolras asked, sounding worried as the hallways were bathed in red lights. 

“Oh fuck.” Combeferre cursed, “You guys get out of here. I don’t know what’s wrong, but this can’t be anything good.” He gave them his keycard. “You can’t get out without a card, check yourselves off on the visitor list.” 

There was a loud, booming noise from somewhere close by. The ground shook. Courfeyrac took the keycard, but hesitated. 

“Come with us!” He said. Combeferre shook his head. He needed to be sure he saved the data on his computer, he couldn’t afford to lose his job. Besides, he wanted to be sure the other interns got out. 

“Go!” He called, running off down the halls. 

…

It turned out that someone had saved the data on his computer for him, and the whole part of the building the interns were supposed to be in was fine. Combeferre got in a little trouble for losing his badge, but he just had to pay a fee for a new one. The alarms shut off rather quickly, and everyone was sent home early. 

When he got back to his apartment, Combeferre expected to see Enjolras and Courfeyrac waiting. He knew their phones had been checked by security, he’d picked them up for them, so he wasn’t too worried about them not calling, but now he was worried. Very worried, actually. His friends and the fellow interns may not have realized how dangerous his boss was, but he certainly knew the gravity of the situation. So he did the only rational thing he could think of, after he messaged them on Facebook. 

He called Grantaire. 

“Hey.” Combeferre said a little awkwardly. He’d never talked to Grantaire on the phone before. Hell, since Facebook was invented he didn’t think he’d really talked to anyone on the phone much. “Do you know where Enjolras is?” 

“Uh, he’s not at home?” Grantaire asked. Combeferre could hear the frown in his voice. 

“No.” Combeferre thought that would be obvious, “He came to work with me today with Courf and they left their phones there. I’m not really sure how to get ahold of them.” He laughed a little, in that weird way people laugh on the phone, even when someone isn’t joking. A humorless lol. 

“Oh.” Grantaire seemed to think about this, “Did you try Facebook?” 

Combeferre sighed. He knew Grantaire was smart, but he was probably the most useless individual in the whole world right now. 

“No, I tried that.” 

“Oh.” Grantaire repeated, “Well, if you’re worried you could check Courfeyrac’s apartment. Maybe Enjolras forgot his keys or something.” 

Combeferre considered this. It was true that Enjolras did forget his keys on a semi-regular basis. Maybe that was what happened. But then why hadn’t they tried to contact Combeferre on Facebook? He frowned. 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He said, “I’ll do that if they don’t message me in a bit.”

“Cool.” Grantaire said, sounding as awkward as Combeferre felt, “I’m just gonna… hang up now.” 

“Yeah, same.” 

“Bye dude.” 

“Bye.” 

Combeferre slipped his phone back into his pocket, just for it to ring. It was a Skype call, but just the audio, from Courfeyrac. 

“Hey Ferre!” Said Courfeyrac’s voice from the other side, though it had a strange quality to it. It was probably just Skype though, to be honest. The program was a piece of shit. 

“Hey, where are you guys?” He asked, trying and failing to keep the worry out of his voice. “I couldn’t find you.” 

“Oh, we just… went to the cafe.” Courfeyrac said. Weird pause. Probably just lag. 

“Oh, okay, I’ll head over there. I have your phones-” 

“No!” Enjolras exclaimed, “No, you won’t come to the cafe.” 

“I won’t come to the cafe.” Combeferre repeated, before sighing, “Why won’t I come to the cafe?” 

“It’s uh… it’s a secret.” Courfeyrac said, “Enjolras ruined it. We were planning your birthday party.” 

“Guys, my birthday is in October.” Combeferre said, exasperated.

“Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if we threw you a party in October, now would it?” Courfeyrac countered. Combeferre smiled at the phone, happy they couldn’t see him. 

“Fine.” He said, even though he was sure they were covering something up, “Fine, I’ll just keep your phones here. You can pick them up when you’re done planning.” 

“Sounds good.” Courfeyrac said, “Bye Ferre.” 

“Bye guys.”

Combeferre looked at his phone after the call ended. What would make them all secretive all of the sudden? They probably found out his professors were supervillains. That was it. They were going to think he was a supervillain too. How was he going to get Courfeyrac to date him if the dude thought he was a supervillain?

Combeferre shook his head. When had his life gotten this weird? Besides, if they really thought he was a supervillain, they’d probably ask, right? That would be the correct thing to do. They probably think he doesn’t even know his professors are supervillains. Yeah. Everything is good. 

Combeferre considered calling Grantaire again, to tell him his boyfriend was fine, but decided against it. Enjolras probably called Grantaire right after, the two were practically attached. Or maybe he was in on the “party planning”. Combeferre snorted at the thought and flopped down on his bed. The sun was still shining, but he figured he deserved a break now. He’d wake up whenever Enjolras got home…

…

Enjolras came home the next morning, but only for a very short time, so short Combeferre didn’t even know he was there, except for the door slamming because of him leaving. He left a note that said he’d be staying at Grantaire’s with some excuse for why he was there. He’d taken Courfeyrac’s phone as well as his own.

Combeferre frowned at the note, and for the first time in a long time he doubted his career choice. Courfeyrac and Enjolras were obviously upset with him for working with supervillains, but why wouldn’t they talk to him about it? Why were they keeping him in the dark? What could he do to fix this? 

He sighed and considered calling or texting either one of them, but he didn’t want to seem desperate or needy. Besides, he never was one to text first when he didn’t have anything to say. Courfeyrac was though, and he missed his friend’s random texts to him, a written stream of consciousness. Since Combeferre had his phone, he obviously hadn’t been texting and Combeferre doubted he’d start up the same as usual if he and Enjolras were being so weird. 

Combeferre shook his head. He was probably reading too much into it. His friends were probably fine with him, Enjolras just wanted to hang out with his boyfriend, that didn’t mean anything. And Courfeyrac would be normal, as normal as Courfeyrac ever was, once he was back in possession of his phone. Everything would be fine. 

…

Everything wasn’t fine, but it wasn’t as disastrously bad as Combeferre had initially thought. Courfeyrac texted him as usual, but less frequently. Enjolras didn’t seem mad at him. But… He didn’t get to see them often, either. Sure, he saw them as much as he saw any other member of the ABC, but this was _Enjolras_ and _Courfeyrac_. They’d been together since childhood and there usually wasn’t a week that went by without them seeing each other almost every day. Now, for Courfeyrac that could be more easily explained away, but Enjolras? They were roommates, and Combeferre hardly ever saw him. 

Combeferre knew rationally that he should have talked to them like a real adult and had a grown-up conversation about feelings or whatever, but he was annoyed. If they had a problem with him, why didn’t they just come out and say it? He decided to ignore them right back, feeling like a pouting child. 

Slowly, over the next week, Courfeyrac’s texts slowed, since they were receiving no reply. Combeferre rethought his position on the matter, he really didn’t want Courfeyrac to be mad at him or have his feelings hurt, he never wanted to be mean to him. But he steeled himself. He knew what the other Amis said behind his back (or he knew what he thought they said), he knew they thought that he didn’t need any friends to function, that he was cold and unfeeling and that’s why he’d never really gotten super close with anyone else. 

(The real reason he’d never gotten super close was because he had a hard time opening up and talking to new people, even though at this point they had ceased being _new_ , really.)

He’d show them that they were right. He didn’t need friends, he didn’t need anyone. If Enjolras and Courfeyrac really didn’t want to be friends anymore, he didn’t need them anyways. He could busy himself just fine with work and his summer class.

And if he cried a little over the thought then, well, Enjolras wasn’t at home to see him doing so anyways. 

…

That week marked the first ABC meeting that Enjolras and Courfeyrac skipped. Combeferre, as the next highest in their chain of command after Enjolras, had to lead the meeting. He’d been avoiding watching the news, it reminded him too much of his friends and how all three of them had come to the mutual decision to make this stupid club. He really didn’t have anything to talk about. 

“Sorry,” He said, with a sheepish smile, “I haven’t done that much research. I didn’t know I’d have to, and with school and work…” 

Combeferre didn’t need to finish his sentence. He was overwhelmed with comments from the others telling him to take care of himself, this was just a club, he didn’t need to eat up his sleep schedule if he didn’t have time to research. It almost made him feel bad for avoiding the news. 

He sat back and listened to the others discuss popular news stories. Two hours passed quickly and the meeting was over. He hadn’t realized that he zoned out most of the meeting. 

Joly came up to him before he left, putting a hand on his shoulder. It felt a little ridiculous with how very short Joly was compared to himself. 

“Hey,” Said the med student, “Take care of yourself, got it?” 

“This coming from the guy who lives off of Eggo waffles and Adderall?” Combeferre joked. He’d actually become pretty good friends with Joly over the years. Before he’d changed his major they were on the same track to being doctors. Joly grinned. 

“That was one semester! Will I ever live it down?” He said, dramatically. He glanced back at his significant others, who were waiting for him, “Bossuet’s been feeding me stuff that isn’t frozen. He’s a pretty good cook when he isn’t setting off the fire alarm.” 

“That’s good.” Combeferre said, at a loss for how to reply, “You should go with them. I’ll leave in a minute.” 

Combeferre would deny holding out hope that Enjolras and Courfeyrac were going to come in, but he still wished they would. 

Joly nodded and headed out, linking arms with Bossuet, who was holding onto Musichetta on his other side. Combeferre figured it was safest to keep Bossuet in the middle. While he was idly thinking about Bossuet’s bad luck, Grantaire walked over to him.

“Hey.” Said Grantaire, shaking Combeferre from his thoughts. Combeferre looked over. 

“Yeah?” He asked. He realized that they were the only two left in the room. Grantaire shuffled awkwardly. 

“Have you seen Enjolras?” Grantaire asked. His voice hid a tinge of worry. Combeferre frowned. “It’s just, he hasn’t been around and he’s only really been texting me. I’m a little afraid he’s mad at me and I don’t know what I did.”

Combeferre sighed. He felt the same. 

“No.” He said, “He hasn’t been home much. Actually, he told me he was spending time with you. Or, he wrote it in a note.” 

“Really?” Grantaire asked, looking all kinds of upset. 

“I don’t know what’s going on with them.” Combeferre commented, letting a little bit of his irritation color his voice. He wanted to vent, but he didn’t want to trash talk Enjolras to his own boyfriend.

“Them?” Grantaire asked. Combeferre shrugged. 

“Courfeyrac’s been avoiding me too. I haven’t seen them all week and it’s weird.” 

“Yeah, you three are always together.” Grantaire commented, “What is going on?” 

“Believe me, I wish I knew.” 

…

Over the next week things return to some weird purgatory of almost-normal. Courfeyrac continued to text Combeferre (who answered now, deciding that this was not the time to be bitter), Enjolras could be spotted in the apartment once in a while, and the both of them return to the next meeting. 

Enjolras rarely spoke to Combeferre, which hurt, seeing as they used to talk from different rooms of the apartment. It was weird and quiet. Combeferre almost said something out of sheer frustration, but he was half afraid of the response and half afraid he’d let this go on too long, that asking would be awkward. 

Despite Combeferre’s avoidance of the news, he’d have to be living under a rock to not hear about the two new superheroes. They were living in a strange time, there were heroes all over the world, but it hadn’t seemed like their city needed any, seeing as it wasn’t huge like New York or Chicago. 

They called themselves Avenger and The Center. From what Combeferre could tell, Avenger had some kind of charm-speak and The Center was super strong, but he hadn’t paid all that much attention. They even had superhero costumes, though it didn’t seem like the spandex that starred in comic books. 

Enjolras seemed amused whenever they were in the same room and they saw it on the news, but he never said why. Maybe it was because these vigilantes’ nemeses seemed to be Combeferre’s bosses. 

…

Combeferre headed into work a few days later. He’d been working over time, which was earning him points with his bosses since people seemed to be leaving frequently. Probably worked out that they were supervillains. This also meant that Combeferre was doing the work of five interns. This might be why he decided to stay when the red alarms started flashing again, rather than evacuate. 

Someone had pulled the fire alarm after the red flashing lights started. Combeferre was rushing around computers, trying to save whatever anyone was working on before the sprinklers started. He was cursing Macs and Apple in general for their non-waterproof products, when someone ran into the room. 

Combeferre looked up. He was going to tell whoever it was to just leave their work and run, despite what he was doing. The words died on his lips. Through the artificial rain from the ceiling, he saw one of the superheroes from the news, The Center. 

Combeferre hadn’t really been sure of what the man had been wearing based on shaky, blurry cell phone images of the heroes, but it turned out that the man was wearing a black and blue motorcycle suit, like the ones Courfeyrac always wanted but could never afford or justify when they walked past the store. The man looked kind of like a low-tech Ant-Man from the new Marvel movie Combeferre had seen a few months ago. 

After a moment of them just looking at each other and Combeferre getting steadily more soaked in the water, The Center spoke. 

“You should leave.” 

He had a voice distorter. Or, Combeferre really hoped it was a voice distorter, because his voice sounded _weird_.

“Why?” Combeferre shot back, glancing for a moment at one of the computers as it went dark because of the water. 

“It’s dangerous.” The Center said. Combeferre wished that the voice distorter would allow for some inflection. If he didn’t know better he’d think that The Center had said it with a _tone_. But no, superheroes were supposed to be sincere and good, right? Right. 

“Nah.” Combeferre said, though he winced when he heard a crashing noise from the other room, “If they hurt me there’ll be too much paperwork to fill out. And you guys won’t hurt me, you’re good guys.”

The Center seemed to stand up a little straighter at the praise. Combeferre almost smiled, this dude was a dork. It was probably Marius or something under the mask. That would be something. 

The Center looked like he wanted to say something, but at that moment Avenger ran into the room. 

Avenger wasn’t wearing as much protective gear as The Center. He was wearing what looked like red skinny jeans and a white shirt. The only thing that showed that he was one of the superheroes was a white mask. 

No one had ever really gotten a good look at this guy. Something about him distorted the camera view, probably because he told the cameras not to get a good shot of him. He told onlookers not to remember what he looked like. Combeferre supposed that if you could convince people not to know you, there was no point in a costume. 

“We have to go.” Avenger said. Combeferre thought for a moment that the voice was familiar, but whenever he looked back on it he wouldn’t be able to remember. 

“Yeah.” The Center agreed. 

Avenger turned to Combeferre and said something. He remembered The Center crossing his arms and looking as unhappy as someone in a face-concealing mask could look, before he woke up at home with no memory of what had happened. 

Well, he said woke up. What he meant was zoned in, halfway through spilling a cup of coffee all over the ground because he wasn’t aiming correctly. 

After he cleaned up and poured himself a new cup of coffee, Combeferre sat in front of the TV. Enjolras was there, watching the news and frowning. It turned out that neither of the superheroes had gotten any of the villains, and the police didn’t have enough evidence to do anything besides keep the villains overnight. Enjolras turned his disapproving frown to Combeferre as the man sat down. 

“Yes?” Combeferre asked, before taking a sip from his coffee. 

“It’s wrong to work for supervillains, right? You think that’s definitely a bad thing to do, right?” Enjolras asked. His voice sounded strained, like he was barely containing himself from something. 

“Oh yeah, for sure. Definitely a bad thing to do.” Combeferre said, before taking another drink. If Enjolras was going to accuse him of being a supervillain he’d have to come out and say it. 

“So, why would you work for them?” Enjolras demanded. And this was it, the question Combeferre had been waiting for for weeks. He put down his cup and sighed. 

“I’m not really helping them with any supervillain stuff,” He explained, “Just with research for the college. Besides, I’m behind schedule since I changed my major and this is the only way to get back on track. If I didn’t have this internship I wouldn’t have all the prerequisites for my classes next semester and I’d have to be in college an extra year because one of those classes is only offered in the fall. That’s too expensive, I don’t want to be paying off my debt for the rest of my life for useless classes.” 

“You’re working for supervillains because of college debt?” Enjolras asked, looking less angry. “Really?” 

Combeferre nodded. “Really. These are dark times, my friend.” 

Enjolras let out a shocked laugh. “Yeah, I guess.”

…

The next Amis meeting centered around the superheroes, though Enjolras was trying desperately to get it back on track about college debt. Combeferre appreciated the effort.

…

A few days later, the superheroes were back at Combeferre’s place of work, though it didn’t seem to be their choice. The villains had given all the interns gas masks and let some green tinted gas flood the lab, trying to send it out into the city. The superheroes were just doing their job of trying to not let the city die by toxic gas or whatever the hell was going on. 

Most of the interns had evacuated, yet again, but Combeferre was desperately looking for whatever machine was making the gas. He wanted to turn it off, he could justify it to his bosses, since the heroes were here, that he was trying to hide it from them. In all honesty, however, he was worried about the city. 

He was close to the room, when he was suddenly slammed against a wall, hard. He coughed, the wind had been knocked out of him, and looked at whoever had done the slamming. It was The Center. Combeferre honestly felt offended, the last time they’d talked The Center seemed like a reasonable person. Then he remembered the gas mask. 

He took a deep breath and took off the mask for a moment. The Center let him go immediately, before Combeferre replaced it on his face. 

“What are you doing?” The hero asked, shouting over the alarms or shouting in frustration, Combeferre would never know. 

“Well, normally I just go to work and try not to die, but today those goals are looking less than attainable.” Combeferre replied. He expected a laugh, but got none. “I’m trying to find the machine to shut it off.”

“Really?” The Center sounded surprised. Combeferre continued to be offended. This guy didn’t think he was a bad guy, did he? 

“Really.” Combeferre said. He pointed towards the door he’d been headed for. “Go there and press the yellow button. Don’t press the big red one that says ‘off’, it’ll self destruct.” 

The Center nodded, seeming to trust him. “Okay, get out of here!” 

Combeferre was more than happy to oblige. 

…

That night on the news, which he and Enjolras had been watching together more, Combeferre saw that one of his professors had been caught by the heroes and turned over to the police. His other professors had gone into hiding (which meant that they were in a bunker underneath the lab, but Combeferre wasn’t going to tell that to anyone) and the police were struggling to get a warrant. It turned out that all of the professors’ stuff was the university property and the university was being less than cooperative. 

“So, are you out of a job then?” Enjolras asked. Combeferre shrugged. 

“I think I’m supposed to go back. I’ll ask my advisor tomorrow.” 

…

It did seem like he was supposed to go back. His advisor told him that the university hadn’t fired the professors yet, and until that happened, he was still working for them. His advisor did advise him to get his paperwork signed off as soon as possible though, as he didn’t think the professors would last long, and he assured Combeferre that if his professors were arrested the internship would still count. 

“Your advisor is fucking insane.” Courfeyrac told him that day. He was over for lunch in Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment, something that used to happen almost every day, but had stopped in that weird period of time. However, things seemed to be moving back to normal and Combeferre had gotten over his spite. Mostly. 

“The university is fucking insane.” Combeferre corrected, “My advisor is just looking out for me.” 

“If he was really looking out for you-”

“She.” 

“If she was looking out for you, she’d have told you to leave the internship and she’d have talked to the department head or the dead or _whoever_ and told them to get their head out of their ass and let you quit.” Courfeyrac ranted, waving his peanut butter and honey sandwich. A glob of honey narrowly missed Combeferre. 

“The professors have tenure.” Combeferre said with a shrug. He looked down at his study materials and tried to hide a smile. It was nice that his friend was so concerned about him. If Combeferre looked into more later that night, he might be able to convince himself that Courfeyrac was concerned because he had feelings for him, that he reciprocated Combeferre’s feelings. 

But that was just a fantasy. Combeferre was sure Courfeyrac would get that worked up about anyone’s safety. 

“Besides.” He added, wiping the honey off of the paper it had landed on with a napkin, “This isn’t as bad as my sophomore year. Remember when I joined that medical study?” 

“Yeah, and Joly was sure you’d gotten the plague?” Courfeyrac said with a laugh, “Fuck this school, man.” 

Combeferre laughed.

…

The third time the superheroes came into the laboratory, there were no alarms. Combeferre would later learn that Avenger had charmed his way in and he was trying to convince the two remaining professors to give themselves up, with The Center as his backup in case anything went wrong. 

A lot of employees had quit, so Combeferre was actually on desk duty today. He was sitting there, supposed to answer phones, when The Center strolled up to him. 

“Oh, hi.” Said Combeferre, “Are you going to tell me to leave again? I’m in the middle of this game of solitaire and I think I’m winning.”

“Nah, Avenger’s got it.” The Center said with a shrug. He leaned his elbows on the desk, staring at Combeferre. Or, Combeferre thought he was staring. It was hard to tell with the mask. 

“Can I help you?” Combeferre asked. The Center was being weird. 

“Combeferre, why are you here?” The Center asked. Combeferre wondered how he knew his name until he realized he was wearing a nametag, “You shouldn’t be here. You have some good in you, I can tell.” 

Combeferre snorted, “At this point, I’m pretty sure all I have in me is ramen, Redbull, and spite.” He pointed to the stack of papers on his desk, “It’s midterms.” 

The Center laughed a little, “But seriously, you seem like a good guy. And you’re a good looking guy. Why aren’t you out there being a model for some stock photos? That’s good money.” 

“Hey!” Combeferre faked offense, “I’d like to think my charms are less generic than the average stock photo. You’re rude.”

The Center looked like he wanted to reply, but suddenly there was the sound of police sirens outside. The Center looked over at the window. 

“That’s the signal. I’d better find En-Avenger.” He said, walking away. He turned and looked over his shoulder. “You might want to come with. I don’t want the police to arrest you too.”

…

It turned out that Avenger only managed to capture one of the remaining two villains. The police finally got a warrant for the lab, but it seemed like it was too late. Combeferre knew that the supervillains had moved most of their stuff to another lab. All that was left at the one he worked at was the university’s studies. 

The police had wanted to take Combeferre in for questioning, but Avenger had said something to them so they wouldn’t. Combeferre couldn’t quite remember what it was, because he couldn’t quite remember most of what Avenger had said. It didn’t matter. 

When he got home, Combeferre called his advisor, who told him that since the university hadn’t fired the last, remaining professor, he would have to work for him. Combeferre sighed. He called the professor, who gave him the location of the new lab and his shift schedule. 

He turned on the news to see a montage of the superheroes and supervillains fighting in the city. It seemed that they had been busy all summer, destroying buildings and whatnot. There had been surprisingly few casualties, for the amount of Death Rays the supervillains had made. Combeferre felt some satisfaction at that. 

See, he had messed with the Death Rays, whenever he had an opportunity. On all of their features, “Shock”, “Stun”, etc., he had made them super precise. That had been his job, precision testing. However, for the “Death” setting, he’d messed with it so it was always just a little bit off. It would _just miss_ almost all of its targets. This was Combeferre’s proudest accomplishment of the summer internship. 

Enjolras sat next to him as he watched a fight between The Center and the supervillain who’d had this weird jumping ability. It seemed that they hadn’t really gotten to pick their superpowers. Enjolras turned down the volume. 

“ _Combeferre_ ,” He said. There was an eerie quality to his voice, like a special effect come to life, “ _Combeferre, you don’t like your job._ ”

“I don’t like my job.” Combeferre agreed. It was true. Well, kind of. It was easy, the pay was nice, for an internship. And he usually never talked shit about his jobs, unless something terrible happened. 

“ _You want to quit your job._ ” Enjolras continued, nodding and keeping eye contact. Combeferre found that he couldn’t look away. 

“I want to quit my job.” He said. That wasn’t true. Or was it? Now he did. I mean, working for supervillains is crazy, why _wouldn’t_ he want to quit his job? 

“ _You’re going to call your professor and quit your job._ ” Enjolras told him. 

Combeferre nodded, “I’m going to call my professor and quit my job.” 

“ _You’re going to remember you hate your job._ ”

“I’m going to remember I hate my job.”

“ _You will have no memory of this convers-_ ” Enjolras was cut off by the door slamming open. 

“Enjolras, you _asshole_ , we agreed you wouldn’t do that!” Courfeyrac said, storming over. He grabbed Enjolras painfully by the arm, “You are going to undo whatever you did. Tell him to stay there, we’re having a talk.” 

Enjolras frowned, but turned to Combeferre, “ _Stay here. Don’t do anything I said. Yet._ ”

“I’ll stay here. And I won’t do anything you said, yet.” Combeferre repeated. Courfeyrac’s frown deepened and he pulled Enjolras into the blond’s bedroom, slamming the door behind him so hard the room seemed to shake. 

Combeferre frowned. His thoughts were hazy. What did Courfeyrac mean, they talked about this? He hadn’t been in on that conversation. Maybe that’s where they’d been, off being friends without him. Combeferre’s heart sank. Maybe they really didn’t like him. 

No. He shook his head. No, there was something happening, something Enjolras had _just said_ that wasn’t quite right. In the back of his mind he knew, but something wasn’t letting him put two and two together. It only gave him a headache. He put his head in his hands. 

Eventually, Courfeyrac and Enjolras left the bedroom. Enjolras looked pissy, but that was his general look all the time these days. Courfeyrac looked victorious and also slightly concerned. With good reason, as Combeferre felt like the pain in his head was going to make him throw up if he thought any harder on whatever he couldn’t think about. 

“Can I move?” He asked. Enjolras looked shocked for a second, but nodded. Combeferre got up and grabbed a glass of water and some Excedrin. He took them and sat down.

“Okay.” He said after the placebo effect kicked in and his headache lessened, “What the hell is going on? Why can’t I think of what’s going on? Because I _know_ but I can’t form the idea in my head.” 

Courfeyrac looked at Enjolras expectantly. Enjolras didn’t say anything. Courfeyrac sighed. He sat down on one side of Combeferre and started to explain. Enjolras sat on his other side. 

“We’re the superheroes, Avenger and The Center.” He said, “Enjolras, in all his brilliance, decided that he wanted to go exploring when you told us to leave the lab during the tour and we ended up getting like… gamma radiated or something.” 

“I don’t think it was gamma radiation.” Combeferre said. 

“Well, we found out we had these powers and we couldn’t really control them and stuff.” Courfeyrac continued, “Enjolras kept making me zone out whenever he said _anything_ and I kept smashing shit. We figure that I have telekinesis and he has charmspeak.”

“We saw the supervillains get their powers.” Enjolras added, “So we decided we had to fight them.” 

“Yeah, for the greater good.” Courfeyrac said, helpfully. 

“So we practiced a little and figured out how our powers worked and we went out and fought them.”

“I figured out how to make us fly.” Courfeyrac added, “You’ve got to fly with me, it’s so much fun.” 

“Don’t fly with him.” Enjolras said, “I threw up.” 

“Once!” 

“Once is enough.” 

“Okay, hold on.” Combeferre said, “Why didn’t you tell me? Don’t you trust me?” 

“Of course we trust you!” Courfeyrac said, leaning on him a little as if to demonstrate his trust, “That was Enjolras’ idea.” 

“You were working for supervillains!” Enjolras defended, “Worst case scenarios, you agree with them or they torture you for information. Had to give you plausible deniability.” 

“Is that why you were trying to make me quit?” Combeferre asked. Enjolras and Courfeyrac both nodded. 

“That, and we care about you and don’t want you to die.” Courfeyrac added. 

“Yeah, that too.” Enjolras agreed. 

“You guys know that I’ve been fucking with them this whole time though, right?” Combeferre asked. He grabbed the remote for the TV, glad that 21st century television let you rewind the news. He got to a part where the villain was about to shoot The Center, Courfeyrac, and paused. 

He pressed play and they saw that even though the gun was pointed straight at him, nothing touched Courfeyrac. Enjolras frowned. 

“No one has that bad of aim.” Combeferre said. “I’ve been messing with the calibration so they don’t hit anyone.”

“Really?” Courfeyrac sounded delighted. 

“All summer.” Combeferre said, “And the other interns kept fixing them, it was a nightmare.” 

“Hey,” Enjolras said, looking at the villian on the news. It was the one they hadn’t caught yet. “You’re going to the new lab tomorrow, right? I think I have an idea on how we can catch this guy.”

…

The plan involved Combeferre wearing a Go-Pro on his chest to tape the villain while he made his plans for whatever his next dastardly plot was. It was easy enough, and that and the plans (all signed by the professor) was enough proof for the police to actually have reason to arrest him. Everything went smoothly. 

The Center and Avenger had been there to make sure none of the cops got hurt while they took the man in, and they got interviewed by the press while the police took a statement from Combeferre. 

They actually gave him credit for helping, when the press asked questions. He found out later that they had cited him as their tour guide through the lab and the media decided to call him “The Guide” since his name was being kept out of the news. Combeferre laughed when Enjolras told him it suited him.

Combeferre’s advisor told him that he had enough time at the internship that he wouldn’t have to spend an extra year in college. The police awarded the three of them some money for the capture of a wanted criminal. Combeferre got his grades back and it turned out he’d aced his midterm. All in all, it was a pretty awesome day. 

“Hey, Ferre.” Courfeyrac said, seeming as high on adrenaline as he was after they left the police station, “Do you want to go out on a date with a superhero?” 

“I think Enjolras is taken.” Combeferre joked, “Besides, isn’t his name some kind of copyright violation? Avenger?” 

“You ruined the moment.” Courfeyrac complained, lacing his fingers in Combeferre’s in a move he might have thought was subtle. “It’s gone. It was going to be like a cheesy ending to a comic book and you ruined it. Now I’ll have to find a new Lois Lane.” 

“If I’m Lois Lane, does that make you Superman?” Combeferre asked as their walking slowed, until they were standing still outside the door to Combeferre’s apartment building. They were standing close too, Combeferre hadn’t noticed how close Courfeyrac was to him until now. 

“Not even close.” Courfeyrac said, before leaning in and capturing Combeferre’s lips in a soft, sweet kiss. He backed away after a moment. Combeferre was about to go in for another kiss, but he started. He didn’t remember Courfeyrac being eye level with him. He looked down. The man was levitating.

Courfeyrac broke into a grin when he saw that Combeferre had noticed. He pointed up. “Hey, you want to take a shortcut?” 

Combeferre looked. Courfeyrac was pointing to the broken fire escape outside his window, five stories up. He grinned right back. 

“Alright, Superman.” He joked, “Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> Now the real question is: did Enjolras tell Grantaire? The answer is no.
> 
> The other real question: does Enjolras use his powers to get out of arguments with Grantaire? Absolutely.


End file.
